


Where Civil Blood Makes Civil Hands Shake

by gemnosha



Category: sciles - Fandom, teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: AU, Derek is rude as shit just because it is Season 1 Derek, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hidden Feelings, Knotting, M/M, Pack dynamics are different, Requested fanfic, Smut, Stiles is Scott's Anchor, Two Parter, required sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-01-12
Packaged: 2018-09-16 21:02:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9289439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gemnosha/pseuds/gemnosha
Summary: Requested by a lovely reader, I have written this story where Scott is bitten by the Alpha and decides against telling Stiles because of Derek's misguided judgment. He doesn't keep it a secret for very long. Especially since Stiles is Scott's Anchor. Plus, Stiles is nosy.





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [astrospace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrospace/gifts).



> I hope this is close enough to what you're looking for. I adapted to what I interpreted your request to ask from the story, to have a more unusual and uncharted pack dynamic. So, I made sex and death determine legitimacy. I am deeply sorry if I blotched your idea. Deepest kudos to being brilliant. 
> 
> \- Luckee. 

 

* * *

   **Prologue I:** _Bitten_

* * *

 

 

The pain came with a feeling that felt remotely like lightning. It struck and sizzled through the dark skinned boy with a vulgar spark until nothing but blood and flesh dripped from his rib cage. He held his hands to the wound, fingers shaking as the blood spewed easily over him. His body was shuddering, every ounce of brevity he had slithered out of the hole that burned on his body. He hadn’t seen what did this, what bit him so viciously. All he knew was he was bitten and whatever did it was still out there. He ran. His brain dizzy with uncharted thoughts. Adrenaline pumping blood through his veins. Until he ran out from the dark forest, hunted, and into the road where a car nearly drove him into oblivion.

 

Fortunately, he was fine. The car drove away speedily, neglecting to acknowledge him. He didn’t think about it. His hand was enclosing his wound while he let out desperate breaths. He needed help. Where was his best friend? Where was Stiles?

 

“I can help you, Scott,” someone said.

 

He twisted and leaped around the road, searching for the voice. From the shadowy topiary lurked a man, slowly approaching him. He recognised him immediately from Stiles’ frequent obsessions over who he was and what had happened to him.

 

“You’re,” Scott started, his voice crackling underneath the sizzling pain, “Derek.”

 

“I,” Derek had said, looking haunted and black, “can help you.”

 

* * *

  **Prologue II:** _Lycanthropy_

* * *

 

Scott had learned he was bitten by an Alpha, a very dark Alpha who Derek highlighted uneasily as a mystery. Which was definitely not new from Derek. Suddenly, everything in Scott’s life became filled with mystery, a sense of secrecy that he couldn’t see past. It was like there was some unexpected veil that surfaced over him and everything that made him human, and no matter what Derek told him nothing became transparent enough to see beyond the veil. What was worse was from under it, the opaque veil that bolted Scott in place under the full moon, like a dog, there was nothing he could control. Truth have it, Scott had literally no control because…

 

Come nightfall when the moon filled with low, powerful and gleaming light, Scott’s inside tugged and pulled into tight knots that cried desperately to be uncoiled. The urges that whispered into his head were too persuasive to ignore. When he loosened his grip, the werewolf inside him howled. He would see his hands twist and curl into monstrous claw-bearing fists and his face turned into a grotesque creature with yellow eyes. The very transformation made his head fill with seamless thoughts, they were unburdened by inhibitions and rationality.

 

 

 

And with nebulous thoughts like that he would feel words unfold, uncontrolled, on his tongue. He would speak insensibly.  And he would stargaze sickening images of a spitting version of Stiles doing sickening things to him. But, truth have it, sickening was Scott’s way of hiding antonyms that better described his feelings like, as limited as his diction was: _cute, sexy, smoking, awesome things._

 

Lacking the dominion over his werewolf side, he struggled to contain his subjunctive thoughts of tracking Stiles down by scent and mounting him down against the forest floors and… he was out of control. At least he was mostly… when he was closer to Stiles he struggled to lash out as the wolf… he was impossibly human. Although, he needed to know how manipulate that.

 

“How do I oversee it? The shift, how do I –”

 

Derek replied, voice steady and his eyes cold, “To control the beast, you need to find something to keep it down. A sort of… anchor,”

 

“What could that be?” Scott asked.

 

“For me, it’s my anger. You see, it can be anything even a –”

 

“Person?”

 

Derek studied him with the same cold eyes but his brows relaxed when he understood what Scott had meant, but only slightly, “And why do you say that?”

 

Because I think I know what my anchor is – who it is – Stiles. The words never left his tongue. Not then.

 

* * *

  **Prologue III:** _Secrecy_

* * *

 

“If he’s my anchor I should tell him – Hell! – I should have told him everything, and a lot sooner before I let you help me!”

 

Derek didn’t look hurt when Scott said it, he just continued to eyeball Scott fixedly, seemingly blank minded. Scott was throwing his hands into the air, shouting and squealing with fretful, gaping expressions.

 

“Do you want to protect him?”

 

“Of course!” Scott was so much more aggressive than Derek at the moment. However, Scott’s aggression filled him with a passionate mission to be closer to his best friend and Derek was just _cold_.

 

“Then you can’t tell him,” Derek said, and Scott’s mouth spasmed as if he was trying to say something but his thoughts short circuited with exasperation. So, Derek continued, “You keep him safe, protected, because when he finds out he’ll get involved and if he’s in the wrong place at the wrong time because you told him the wrong thing for the wrong reason: It’s on you.”

 

Scott decided (with lots of unlisted persuasion) he could never tell Stiles he was a werewolf. It was too dangerous.

 

* * *

  _I’ll be your beta_ **, the story of Stiles**

* * *

 

The boy had noticed a lack of something lately or more specifically – a lack of Scott. His best friend had rejected to spend the endless school nights over at his house to study or talk or do anything they normally planned to do. It hadn’t bothered Stiles until recently when his dad had brought up the fact that he hadn’t seen Scott in for ever, and Stiles was speechless when asked for a reason why.

 

Even at school he could hardly pinpoint where Scott was, he was always running off someplace and hiding away from him. Or, at least that was what it felt like. And when Stiles did catch Scott, dressing in the locker room he had been too distracted by how much Scott had changed. His best friend’s body somehow mutated into a hard-bitten drink of muscled water – or something like that – point was – Scott was firm, his body was redesigned as lean as ever and painted with solid abs. When Scott had asked what he wanted Stiles was too dumbfounded to speak. He had said something like, _Uh, don’t know. I was, uh, looking for – so lacrosse captain? When did that, uh_. And as he had babbled on Scott reacted strangely. The muscular boy stepped close enough for their noses to kiss, and he sniffed Stiles’ neck. When Stiles asked why he did it Scott merely looked embarrassed and then excused himself, holding his hands to his pants.

 

Nonetheless, the lack was something Stiles was feeling and it was beginning to grow on his nerves. Because of this feeling, Stiles planned an ambush. He knew Scott worked a nightshift at the animal clinic tonight and so… that was why he was here… standing seven meters deep on a shortcut through the woods at **11:03**.

 

The forest was quiet, the absence of life was a nonporous reality that he disliked. He took it upon himself to fill the silence, whistling a tune he couldn’t quite remember where he had originally heard it from. Soon enough, a single bird tweeted it back at him and then the black surroundings echoed with unfamiliar whistling. Any other night, Stiles would have stood where he was now and pissed himself with fear. But no, he was on a mission. His best friend was pulling strings on their friendship and running alone _MIA_. Stiles was prepared to be the Captain America of the pair and drag Scott’s Bucky-ass out of the exclusive hole he had gotten himself into.

 

The walk through the forest wasn’t long since it was a shortcut afterall. The animal clinic was a tower of dim lights, orange and yellow. The door opened with a ring of a bell and as Stiles stepped in so did many clots of dust.

 

He didn’t see Scott, not immediately. Although, the animal clinic was hollowed out by unsettling voices speaking of unsettling things.

 

He heard Scott. He was saying, “I don’t understand – it’s a werewolf ritual. I’ve never heard of it.”

 

Another voice, “To seal your place in a pack you must be subdued by your Alpha.”

 

“You want Peter Hale to have sex with me?” Scott sounded distressed. Stiles didn’t know Peter Hale. He knew Hale, not Peter.

 

Stiles followed the sounds unwillingly, drawn in by the conversation.

 

“No. That’s only –” Stiles made out who the other voice was: Derek; He said, “That’s only – one of the ways, there are other rituals.”

 

“What if I don’t want to be part of his pack?”

 

Derek took a moment before he replied, “If you can find yourself a beta who is willing to follow you, Scott, go ahead.” And Derek sounded irritated like Scott had brought up the conversation too many times for Derek’s patience to withstand.

 

“Fine. What are the other rituals?”

 

Silence. Then, “The bite recreated you, your Alpha must rid you of your previous creators to be the ultimate master in your life. You need to – sacrifice your parents.”

 

Abruptly, Stiles heard a cracking sound and then a mixture of growling. The dogs in the clinic heard it, too as they started barking wildly. Stiles rushed to where the voices were and he could clearly hear Scott and Derek, fighting. He turned the corner and found the opened backdoor, revealing a version of Scott that Stiles was unaware of.

 

His best friend was dripping in blood, his clothes torn and filthy. It matched Derek’s shirt. They were fighting, but with claws and teeth and blue and yellow eyes.

 

Scott growled, “Don’t come near my parents,” and he threw Derek agaisnt the wall where the cement cracked and dismembered itself from the animal clinic building.

 

Stiles’ existence was a faint sun on the lifting horizon as he watched the two beastly versions of people he knew well enough to know that something was wrong tear each other apart. He couldn’t remove his gaping face. Scott was a puzzle of hair and uncanny features. He knew exactly what he was. A werewolf. Stiles stood idly, jaw-dropped, “Scott?”

 

The werewolves halted. It was like watching a car crash pause mid air or lightning turn to ice. Scott transformed into the Scott that Stiles knew best.

 

“I’ll be your beta,” Stiles said like he understood everything, like he didn’t need an explanation or a guide book even though he knew he did. The car crash reversed and the ice melted as Scott pressed closer, holding his hand on his healing wounds and watching Stiles’ eyes follow the tissue that formed magically where his skin had been ripped. Derek scoffed.

 

“Stiles,” Scott didn’t know what to say. _You’re not scared? You’re not disappointed?_ “You can’t –”

 

“I will be your beta. Nobody’s parents die, nobody has sex with,” Stiles turned to look at Derek who was watching him with a stern, brooding gaze, “anyone.”

 

“No,” Derek said, “if you want Scott to be your Alpha he’s either going to have to kill your father or fuck you; you prepared for that, _Stiles_?”

 

“Nobody dies.”

 

“Stiles –” _How was Stiles handling this so well? How was he okay after he just witnessed that? How was he not mad at Scott for hiding this from him? Was it out of pity for Scott’s situation?_ Scott thought's ran away from him.

 

“Scott.” Stiles looked unfazed, “I’m helping you.” _He was mad, then. He sounded mad. And, yes, it was out of pity for Scott’s uneasy predicament._

 

**To be continued...**


	2. Part Two

The two boys sat cross legged, glares unhinged by free will. It felt like a job, now, to stare at each other, to fill the awkward black hole in the room. The longer it remained, the larger it grew. Scott’s shirt was still torn, ravished from his body, and the dry blood hung like raindrops from the fabric.

 

“Derek,” Scott said, Stiles’ attention bolted into action by the alarming name, “he says the ritual must be done before the next full moon. The first is for the transformation, the second is for claiming.”

 

Stiles wanted to ask him, _why didn't you tell me? why did you hide from me? when did this happen? how long have I not known?_ However, he settled for, “When is the next full mo–”

 

“Tomorrow,” Scott said, too quickly, too nervously.

 

The animal clinic was as quiet as the forest except here there was no possibility of setting off a chain of mimicking, whistling birds. Stiles’ stomach twisted, he wished there were birds or anything to throw this conversation into action.

 

The thing is he wasn't bothered with the fact that Scott was werewolf. He wasn't bothered that werewolves existed. It made sense to him. His dad came home consistently with mysterious cases of strange, and dark animal attacks. He thought that the cases were so peculiar, the animal markings were too original to be anything plausible. Lycanthropy didn't surprise him. Stiles was too big of a geek to freak at the supernatural fantasy that literally unfolded before him, and the idea of helping Scott masked him as a martyr. _Or so he imagined._ Part of him was pleased. _Part of him._

 

“I guess we should – start?” Stiles asked, swallowing down something difficult to taste. _Anxiety._

 

“You're nervous,” Scott said.

 

“Of course I'm nervous. I'm about to have sex with my best friend, my _brother_. I feel like I stepped into a knock off of the Mortal Instruments,” Stiles was babbling, his head rocking in that characteristic way that it always did. The were-boy was staring at him with a glazed expression. Stiles added, “You know Clary Fray, Jace Wayla – never mind.”

 

Scott’s nose moved in a way that made Stiles wonder what he was thinking, what he was doing. Scott said, “You didn't seem to mind the idea that day in the locker room.” And it was the truth. Stiles swallowed that same difficult taste. “I smelled it on you.” Stiles remembered Scott sniffing his jaw. “Lust. You were looking at me with –”

 

“I get it.” _Scott was a werewolf. He could sense what Stiles felt. He could notice what made his body tick._

 

Scott looked guilty, “I shouldn't have said anything, I'm sorry.”

 

“How do we do this?” Stiles asked. _How do we start this ritual? How do you want me?_

 

 _(Just like you are.) “_ Derek said,” Scott explained, “we have to be under the moonlight and I have to mount you, to make you give yourself to me – like you were nothing without my touch – to subdue you.” The way Stiles watched Scott as he explained was black, broken, like his mind was split into dark thoughts and it made him look like Scott had forced him into a world he never wanted to be a part of. _It wasn't totally true._ “He said, when it happens we would know. Something would happen to me, and then I would want to bite you, to turn you, and you would have to let me.”

 

Silence. The wind was louder than Scott’s breath. It was like a roaring thunderstorm compared to the quiet exchange of intense stares that took place.

 

Scott said, “we don't have to do this”

 

After a moment, “I won't let Peter – whoever he is – hurt your family, or you,” Stiles said, “and plus, like you said, I wanted to do this. You smelled it on me.”

 

Scott looked irrefutably culpable, _I’m sorry,_ and, _I wanted to do this, too_ crossed over his blameworthy, paled cheeks.

 

“Where?” Stiles asked. Scott was puzzled.

 

“Where what?”

 

“Where do you want to do this, you said Derek told you that it had to be under the moonlight. So, do you want to, like, go outside and do it on the floor?”

 

Scott’s heart hefted and hauled out of his rib cage, beating loudly. He was insulted. “No!” It came off too strongly. _No, I don't want to treat you like garbage._ “No, I have a place. Where I want to take you, if you you're still sure you want to _help_ me.”

 

And he had said it like, ‘I have a place where _I_ want to take _you_.’ It was filled with a familiar compassion that Stiles’ head fluttered for. He moved closer unknowingly, and suddenly he was taking Scott’s hand.

 

“Okay,” Stiles mumbled.

 

* * *

_I'll be your beta_ **, the story of Stiles**

_***_

* * *

 

 

They had left the animal clinic without hurry, holding hands and walking quietly in the dark. For a moment, Stiles had let himself think that everything that was happening wasn't. He told himself that they were just strolling, hand in hand, as _lovers_ and not _the unfortunate._

 

They embarked the ritual when the woods swallowed them like a shadowy monster. At least, that’s what Stiles thought because… Scott’s grip tightened around his palms. And he would step closer to him, letting Stiles’ scent rush into his nostrils while he would circle his thumb over Stiles’ knuckle.

 

After a while the place Scott wanted to take Stiles to lit up under the growing moon, gleaming with a creamy color. It was a small hut, abandoned but maintained, in the secret corners of the forest.

 

“How did you find this place?” Stiles asked, froth forming by his lips. He hadn't noticed it was cold. He was warm because of Scott’s closeness.

 

“My parents used to come here on dates before they _separated.”_

 

“Scott,” Stiles sounded off, “why bring me here?”

 

And he said it fast like he didn't even have to think about it, “because Stiles I'm not going to finally have sex with you behind the animal clinic.”

 

And he said it like, ‘I'm not going to _finally_ have sex with you behind the animal clinic.’ Stiles heard it clearly. It rang in his head. **_Finally_ **.

 

 _What do you mean by finally?_ He never lifted his lips to speak. Silence.

 

Closer, the hut was more of a lodge. It was made from soft, brown wood. The wood had dark markings that looked like constellations on the surface, Stiles’ gaze was sucked in. It was a simple lodge with just one room, and a balcony porch that hardly lifted too far from the ground, it looked out on a small pond that was glowing underneath the moonlight.

 

“It’s nice,” Stiles said.

 

“It’s better inside.”

 

Which was true, Stiles came to learn. The inside was a cozy dollhouse that was home to nothing more than a small gas run kitchen and a floored in bed that looked up to an open sunroof. The moon struck down with sharp light. Stiles watched the dust teleport through the strange light, flitting with imagined determination and lifelessness.

 

“You're right, it is better inside.” They were still holding hands, the sweat was still glistening between their fingers. Scott was eyeing Stiles, an unstoppable grin on his stupefied expression. Stiles looked impossibly beautiful in the lodge, the moonlight did him good on his soft, pale skin. The were-boy found himself eager to kiss him where the light grazed over him. Stiles found his gaze and as if robotically, he let go of Scott’s hand to piece away his clothing.

 

Scott’s face was obscured, he watched inscrutably, “May I?”

 

Stiles’ response was caught on a web in his throat. He nodded, instead. And the were-boy moved too quickly, too nervously toward him, replacing Stiles’ fingers for his. On Stiles’ shirt, he unbuttoned it until it hung too loosely on his shoulders, threatening to fall. Scott’s focus fell down on Stiles’ body, naked torso displayed anxiously. He leaned forward, pulled the shirt from Stiles’ shoulders and pressed a kiss where it started to curve into his best friend's long, white neck. The kiss was unbearably small and significantly soft. Stiles felt the goosebumps cover him like a blanket. Scott drew in a long breath on his skin, and when he returned, hands on Stiles’ pants, his eyes were golden and bright.

 

His hands worked feverishly, undoing any knot and lace and button that prevented Stiles’ pants from coming undone. When he was finally finished, he let the fabric slip right from Stiles’ legs, and the boy stepped out from it. He was wearing only boxers now. Scott smiled at the miniature batmen on them. _Typical._ With conviction, the were-boy unbuttoned that, too. When he was done he threw off his own clothes, and there was nothing left but two, naked boys in the darkly lit cabin somewhere between tall trees.

 

“You're still okay with this?” Scott asked, although it was more of a purr.

 

Stiles felt his stomach twirl, and the feeling in his abdomen dropped lower. His cock, which he had so happily ignored until now, grew hard-bitten. He parted his lips to speak, but distracted by how Scott fixed his attention to how Stiles was southbound, he murmured noises like, “ _Defnitlylmg.”_

 

Scott’s face split as he smiled. “Okay,” he said. Then, he bent down, running his palms up Stiles’ legs until they found his hips and held them still. He moved his lips closer to where Stiles’ cock twitched unknowingly. And the human boy shut his eyes, preparing, unsure what to think.

 

When it happened it was warm. Wet and warm. Scott’s lips wrapped around the head of his cock and swept over it, tasting it. Then, a moist tongue ran over it and Stiles’ spine turned to jelly. When Scott noticed he opened his jaw wider, letting all of Stiles fill his throat until he could feel the favorable head hit the back of his throat with uncomfortable thuds. Stiles was rocking into his mouth. And all Scott could think was, _you taste amazing._

 

He ran his tongue over Stiles’ head again, the vibrations of it making Scott moan into the sensitive skin. Stiles shuddered and rocked harder. His cock was pulsating, warmth running wildly from his skin and into Scott’s mouth. His _beautiful, wet mouth._

 

Scott let the cock spill out of his mouth, the dick bouncing to Stiles’ stomach from the erectness. There was a noise of disapproval as the cool air replaced Scott’s comfortable lips. The were-boy grinned.

 

Scott picked himself up and leaped to where his pants were thrown to the side, taking something out from the pockets. “Grabbed these before we came. Safety first. My mom would kill me.” And he held the condoms out excitedly for Stiles to see. He slipped it over his own dick with a slick turn of his wrists, taking a moment to stroke himself as he thought about Stiles and what he was about to do.

 

The pale boy stepped closer to him so that there was nothing but Scott’s stroking hand separating them, and he knelt down to slip onto the floored in bed, his lips almost brushing over Scott’s abdomen. And Scott’s body filled with desire as he watched Stiles find himself with his legs spread on the mattress. He climbed toward him so that he was peering over Stiles, the human boy’s leg bent over Scott’s shoulder and Scott perfectly between his legs, looking down at Stiles’ cock, wet and beautiful and his _cheeks_ untouched and tangible. _So tangible._ Scott thought, _only in my dreams._

 

The condom was already slick, he didn't bother any further preparations. Instead, he simply placed a kiss on Stiles’ chest and then his neck again and slowly, carefully let his cock slide into Stiles. And Stiles cried out, pained, Scott’s head was in, pulsing.

 

“You look so beautiful,” Scott had said, unable to stop the words from slipping from his tongue. The feeling of pressing into Stiles’ tight hole devoured him. He was done for, taken over by something that lurked inside of him.

 

Stiles would've returned the compliment but all he could see was Scott’s fangs and his golden eyes and the rest of his werewolf face. And he swears, the further Scott slid inside him the bigger his dick became. When Scott was fully in, the sensation was adrift, pouring down on both of them like tidal waves of euphoria. They could see stars splitting the world before them, the spots in their view popping like fireworks. Scott thrust, once, slow. However, Stiles was so _tight_ that it made his cock ache and throb except when it ached and throbbed it felt like earthquakes were going off around them. He thrust again. Stiles’ screams filled his ears so he leaned down and pressed their lips together, feverishly. The pale boy tasted of mint and vanilla, and it made sense to Scott. Stiles always smelled so nebulously like _perfection._ Like the universe. Stiles was Scott’s universe, his anchor. _(Lover)._

 

Their lips moved around each other like diamonds, unable to work smoothly because _everything_ felt so impossibly painful but also so **_amazing._ ** Stiles muttered curses in Scott’s lips as he thrust again and it sent a heavy feeling through his body. He was close. Very close.

 

He was suddenly aware that Stiles dick was rock hard against his body, neglected. He wrapped his hand around it and stroked it out, thrusting simultaneously. Stiles’ cock was practically shaking it throbbed so harshly. Scott knew, _he was close, too._ And for a moment the feeling of them both about to climax filled him with something _strange._

 

Suddenly, Stiles’ body turned ice cold and frigid and he looked at Scott, panicked. “Scott, you’re hurting me.”

 

But Scott couldn't hear him, he was deepening inside Stiles. His cock grew bigger, and bigger until there was no way Stiles could escape him. And he felt himself come, his body spewing inside Stiles in rows and rows and rows. It felt so different than any other time he came. It felt surreal. He couldn't stop, and he could feel himself growing. But, it didn't bother him.

 

The moonlight around them shifted and grew bright. The heavy feeling in Scott bloomed.

 

All Stiles could see was Scott’s fangs before he blacked out, before darkness overtook him. And like a lightning strike, the pain sizzled when Scott bit him… on his neck.

  


* * *

_I'll be your beta_ **, the story of Stiles**

_***_

* * *

 

 

Stiles’ vision returned to him as the last minute of Scott’s knot spilled inside him, and his body felt… _misused_ . He was staring at Scott expectedly as the were-boy looked heartbroken and _human._ Tears ran down his cheeks. He was crying. _Why?_

 

When he noticed Stiles was watching him he stopped. Stiles felt the pain from Scott’s thrust slow as he was finally able to relieve himself. He looked pained. Haunted.

 

He scoured to the back of the cabin, hiding where the moonlight couldn't find him. Stiles breathed in all the air he could before he rushed to search for Scott. He was sore, torn apart and hurt. His bite wound ached as it healed.

 

“Scott?”

 

He said it instantly, “I didn't know that's what would happen. He(Derek) didn't tell me. I'm so sorry.”

 

“What _did happen?”_

 

Silence, for a moment. He said sourly, “You fainted and I couldn't help you, I didn't want to. I – just kept – _fucking –_ you like…” _like you were nothing._ “I'm so sorry.”

 

“It’s okay, Scott.” **_It wasn't._ ** But his best friend was broken by it. Stiles swallowed what happened down to where all his anxiety had been going the past few hours. Into his gut. **_But Scott couldn't control it. And it didn't hurt entirely._ **

 

“I didn't want it be like that. I wanted to – _make love_ – to you when we finally did.”

 

“Scott,” Stiles said warningly, “it’s _okay._ ” Silence. “It’s over now.”

 

Scott asked, “is it?” Stiles didn't understand. “Ever since I was bitten things have been so _wrong._ And now I've dragged you into it, too.”

 

“I put myself here. Don't forget you never told me.” Scott didn't speak. Stiles continued, “But I understand why now.”

 

“Do you regret it?” He meant _helping_ Scott. He meant _getting involved._

 

“No. But I hate how difficult everything is between us now.”

 

“Me too.” _I’m sorry._

 

Stiles was by his side now, leaning through the darkness and pressing their lips together. The sweet taste of mint and vanilla and sweetness passed through them.

 

Scott said, “That can change now, I hope.”

 

“Of course – but only if you watch Star Wars from start to finish.”

 

Scott thought, _there’s my best friend._

 

“And,” Stiles added, “I don't think i'll be comfortable if you choose to promote you pack any further because you having sex with other people doesn't –”

 

“Deal!” They were smiling at each other. In the dark. Scott’s hands finally stopped shaking, and he had never noticed they did.

 

**_Where Civil Blood Makes Civil Hands Shake_ **

 

**__ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sincerely hope that this work was written within the bearings of the request, I have habit of losing myself when writing and I simply follow an aesthetic that bewitches me. Even though, this work alone was one of the more painful things to write simply because the fluff wasn't as strong as my others - haha - I did somewhat find comfort in the ending. 


End file.
